Cat and Mouse
by Stained Blue
Summary: Just a little game of cat and mouse


Title: Cat and Mouse  
Pairing: House/Tritter  
A/N: I don't own House or connected characters. I do own the game. Man, I love David Morse :swoon: btw no actual spoilers for S7, sorry.

House hated clinic duty. That, he decided, was the worst thing about being a doctor: having to work clinical duty, listen to pitiful ailments when there were sick people actually dying. With a sigh, he stepped into the examining room that, according to the chart in his hand, held one Michael Tritter. He could already tell that today was going to be a bad day.

"All right, I'm Doctor House. You must be Mr. Tritter…or else I'm in the wrong room." He flipped through the man's chart quickly. "I'm Mr. Tritter." The voice threw him off. The tone was low, soft, and rumbling. Mr. Tritter had an amazing voice that rocked him back on his feet. Casually, he glanced up at Tritter and felt his heart flutter.

Mr. Tritter was tall and lean. His hair was shorn neatly and an astonishing shade of nearly white blonde. He had incredible eyes, soft blue in colour. House cleared his throat, placed the clipboard on some available counter space, and rubbed his hands together.

"Well then, what seems to be the problem Mr. Tritter?" Tritter was reclined against the examining table, regarding House with his head cocked. "I think that I've broken my coccyx, and I was wondering if there was any mild painkiller that you could prescribe." He smiled and snapped on latex gloves. "Well, turn around and bend over, and we'll see about those pills." Tritter raised a silver eyebrow, but did as was asked of him. He could feel himself getting hard looking at Tritter's ass.

He swallowed heavily and gingerly prodded around predominate bones as Tritter's muscles stretched taunt over the man's pert backside. "What makes you say you've broken your coccyx, Mr. Tritter?" He didn't feel the need to show how impressed he was with the man's anatomical knowledge. He felt safer just guessing that the man had looked the term or pain up on or some other website. When his fingers ghosted over Tritter's coccyx region, the other man tensed with a soft breath.

"It hurts, but only when I sit down. My coworkers have noticed that I've been shifting in my seat, so they told my boss, who told me to get it checked out. I just figured that I'd broken my tailbone, AKA coccyx, and that it'd heal. A week later, it still hurts when I sit down." House bit back a soft moan and forcibly stopped his hands from wandering over Tritter's ass, despite it being a very nice ass indeed. "Do you, uh, take part in any vigorous activities that would keep damaging your coccyx?"

A very subtle way, he thought, of asking if Tritter was gay, and still further if he bottomed. Tritter turned around and gave him a heavy look. "Did you just ask me if I'm gay?" He felt himself pale. "Well, I…uh…it would explain it." Tritter glared at him, those pale blue eyes turning icy. "I was helping my brother re-shingle his house, and he accidentally knocked me off the roof. I landed on my ass, okay? I ride, but not dick. My daughter and sons come and stay with me every other weekend, and we go horseback riding. I also have a motorcycle that I ride. So no, I'm not playing butt darts up on Broke-back Mountain, Doctor House."

Feeling very flustered, he quickly scribbled a prescription for a mild painkiller, handed it over to Tritter who snatched it and stormed out. The man had made him, the most callous asshole of a doctor to ever walk the polished floors of a hospital, feel guilty and flustered. Even after Tritter had left, his heart was still pounding heavily in his chest.

Slowly, he exited the examining room and hobbled toward his office. Wilson stopped him. "Hey, you okay House? You look…sick." He looked at his best friend and sighed as the uneasy feeling in his stomach finally settled down. "No, I'm fine. Just had an altercation with a patient, but it's all good." Wilson gave him a look. "You…had an altercation with a patient that you left you flustered? You?" He glowered at his friend, hobbled to his office, and slammed the door. A moment later, Wilson came into the glass room. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. What was her name?"

"His name was Tritter." Wilson's eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead, and he scowled even harder at his friend. "Really? Did he intimidate you? Threaten your manhood?" House glared. "No. He knocked my heart's rhythm outta whack." He thought, for a moment, that Wilson was going to fall out of the chair. "Excuse me?" He sighed heavily and turned toward his computer, blatantly ignoring his friend. Wilson, after a few long minutes of continuing to sit there in the pissed-off silence, took the hint and left House alone in his jumbled thoughts.

He scowled even further once Wilson had left. It wasn't as if his best friend didn't know that he swung both ways. It wasn't as if Wilson hadn't been seduced by him at one point. He slammed his palm down on his desk and growled. He didn't have time for the funny feelings swimming in his heart. Luckily, he didn't plan on ever seeing Tritter again, and that would be the end to all those funny, inconvenient things called emotions.

A week had passed, and he still had yet to forget Tritter. In fact, when he had gone home that night, the fantasies had started. Ever since his encounter with Tritter, he'd had a shockingly powerful wet dream every night, waking up every morning hard enough to drive nails. The prostitutes weren't working, and he didn't feel like getting re-involved with Wilson. But, his hand just wasn't enough, so he walked around with a perpetual hard-on.

After a particularly hot and heavy dream where Tritter had gotten so pissed that he had thrown House up on the examining table, ripped his jeans down, and shown him in a very sharp, brutal, and amazing manner that Tritter did not bottom, House entered the hospital only to find several of the men-in-blue hanging about the waiting room.

Police physicals, he thought, great. He jerkily stalked to the first examining room, the hard-on hindering him far more than his leg, and grabbed the chart outside the door before walking in. He stopped in the doorway with his last lungful of air bundling in his throat. Tritter looked up at him, blue eyes soft and unreadable. "How's your coccyx Mr. Tritter?"

"Better. Those pills helped a lot. Thank you." He took a deep breath and seriously thought about turning around and calling for another doctor. "Alright, so you know the drill. Stand up and strip to your boxers." Tritter nodded and stood, slowly removing his button-down shirt and undershirt to reveal a broad, muscled chest with a light dusting of blonde hair and a few smooth scars. The man toed off his black dress shoes and bent down to pull off his socks and stow them in his shoes. He watched the buttons of Tritter's spine rear up through pale skin.

Tritter glanced up at him as he straightened before his hands dropped to his belt. His long, blunt fingers deftly undid the buckle and pulled the black leather through the belt loops of Tritter's dark grey slacks. Suddenly, the room was very hot, and House was finding it hard to breathe or swallow. It was, by far, the best-damned strip tease he'd ever seen. Finally, Tritter pushed his slacks down over strong, straight legs and laid the slacks on top of his shirts. His boxers were a deep blue, and House decided instantly that blue was his new favourite colour.

With a deep, shaky breath, he stepped forward while regretfully pulling on gloves. "So, you're a cop?" Tritter nodded, watching him with calculating eyes. He suddenly remembered his dream in exquisite detail. He casually prodded on the firm chest and stomach, despite Tritter's age beginning to soften the hard body. Surprisingly, House found the soft curves and hard edges combined to form the perfect David. He touched the pad of the stethoscope to the broad chest and listened to the deep, powerful beat of the man's heart. "Cough."

A strong cough rattled up through Tritter's lungs and made music in his ear. He pressed closer and moved the stethoscope to Tritter's back. "Again." Once again, the cough was smooth, but he suddenly had an idea. He stepped back and surveyed the man before him. "Well, I hear a slight rattle in your cough, but it could be nothing so I'm going to finish the exam before I make any further judgment calls." Tritter nodded.

In the next instant, he truly loved his job. He carefully wrapped his hand around Tritter's cock and balls and squeezed gently. "Cough." Once again, Tritter coughed. The man was large, in all aspects apparently, and he desperately wanted to have the last vestige of clothing removed to behold his David in all the man's beauty. He inappropriately thought about dropping to his knees and sucking the man off right there before he finally let go of his handful.

He quickly finished the rest of the examination and touched the stethoscope to Tritter's chest. "Cough one last time." Tritter did, and he sighed. "The rattle is still there, so I'm going to ask you to turn around and push your boxers down please." Tritter gave him a look, but said nothing. The man turned around, pushed his boxers down, and braced his hands on the table.

House took a deep breath and pressed the thermometer into Tritter's body. The other man tensed, and he casually stroked his hand down Tritter's side. Suddenly, Tritter snatched around, pulling the glass tube from his ass, and jerking his boxers up. The man's eyes glowered at House hard enough to make his knees weak. Tritter's large hand grabbed a handful of House's coat collar and dragged him closer.

Tritter's breath was warm on House's face and smelled like mint and vanilla coffee. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing Doctor House, but you picked the wrong person to play with. You've no idea who you're fucking with." Tritter shoved him away, and House hit the wall hard; he was close to coming in his pants when Tritter began to redress. He was finally calming down when Tritter stalked from the examining room.

Slowly, he got to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair. House sucked in deep, long breaths and tried not to think about the "game" he was playing, because that game was turning out to be very dangerous indeed.

Dreams of Tritter were still tormenting him. Two weeks since he had first met Tritter and still House was drooling over the man. It was getting worse though, the little obsession that he had for the police officer. The dreams were now so vivid that he was unable to get more than an hour's worth of sleep at a time, so he had taken to late night rides through the city on his motorcycle, at break-neck speeds.

For a long, long time, House just lay in bed, breathing deeply and letting his mind wander. Like always, his thoughts careened back toward Tritter despite how much House tried to steer them from the man. After only a few moments of Tritter-oriented thoughts, House was hard enough to drive nails, and it hurt. With great difficultly, he got out of bed and dressed as quickly as he could with a bum leg and a raging hard-on. He ambled out of the apartment, not really caring if the door was locked or not, and shuffled toward his bike.

The bike's hard, sleek body pressed against him in a delicious way, and his helmet muffled the hissed moan. He rocked against the cool metal briefly before revving the engine and kicking off. The yellow bike raged off, the engine vibrating against his aching body in an addictive way. House cranked the throttle and ripped through the city, careening past slow cars and taking command of the road. His hips incessantly rocked against the bike.

Behind him, blue lights flashed and a siren blared heavy. He could outrun the joker in the black-and-white behind him, and he knew that. The cop knew it too. House pressed hard against the bike and pressed the throttle forward. A cop car slipped quietly from an intersection and sat idling in the road; he saw it and felt his heart lurch as the blue lights strobed briefly. He squeezed the brake hard and turned the bike for a side impact rather than a full-on one, and squealed to a stop mere inches from one Michael Tritter, gun drawn and grinning.

"Why Doctor House, I do think the game has taken a turn." Tritter effortlessly pulled him from his bike and slammed him against the still idling black-and-white. The handcuffs cinched on tight, pinching his skin, and Tritter pulled the helmet off before shoving him into the back seat. The other officer collected his bike while Tritter climbed back into the car and turned off the radio. "What the hell?!" House bellowed, thrashing back into the plastic seat. Tritter just chuckled, and the sound made House's erection throb. What was worse was he was wearing tight jeans that left little to the imagination.

Tritter didn't say anything; rather he just shifted into gear and pulled out of the intersection. The drive back to the station was silent and imposing. House felt sick as the drive stretched on and on, until finally Tritter pulled into the brick building's parking lot. The driver's door slammed, and Tritter opened his door, reached in, and pulled him out. House thrashed sharply, and Tritter pulled him so close that House's erection briefly pressed to Tritter's thigh. Tritter still didn't say anything, but he did stare House down until House was forced to still, panting for breath.

"C'mon," Tritter mumbled softly as he pulled House after him into the police station. House stumbled along after Tritter, staring intently at the other man's ass, and wondering if he could fall back hard enough to pull Tritter on top of him. Tritter shoved him down in a chair and stood by his side all throughout the entire booking, seeing as the handcuffs were removed. The girl was cleaning the ink from his fingertips when Tritter pulled him along through a heavy door and toward the holding tank.

House felt a shiver run down his spine as Tritter threw him violently against the wall just outside the holding tank. Strong hands slowly traveled in from his wrists toward his chest. Tritter's strong body was pressed imposingly along his back, and his soft voice trickled over House's ears. "You were going 70 in a 35 mile zone. That's $185, Doctor House. Not to mention the bottles we found full of drugs." House gasped in a short breath and whispered hoarsely, "Those are prescription."

Tritter's lips were barely brushing his neck, his deep voice washing over House's skin and forcing heat downward. "How convenient," Tritter murmured. Those broad palms touched House's ribs, pressing in lightly and swept down his sides before gliding back up House's chest. House couldn't breathe. It was hot in the room, and he knew he was trembling against Tritter. Normally he was the one with his hands all over people; it was a totally different sensation to be at someone's mercy.

Those strong hands swept back down to land on House's hips before one reached down to grope him through his jeans. House's breath left him in a rush as Tritter's broad palm cupped his erection. He bit down hard on his lip, but was still unable to fully muffle the moans leaking from his throat. Tritter's lips more firmly brushed his neck as his large hand began to fondle and caress House, rubbing firmly through the denim. Tritter's other hand kept a strong grip on House's hip, effectively keeping the doctor from bucking as Tritter continued to easily drive House mad.

He was so hard that it hurt to breathe, and he was choking on the never-ending stream of moans muffled by his bottom lip. Tritter's breath was soft and hot against his neck, and he nearly came in his pants when Tritter tightened the grip on his dick and licked his neck slowly.

The tantalizing touch disappeared abruptly, and House gave a heavy sigh and bucked his hips. Tritter's hands coasted easily down House's legs before sweeping back up, catching a grab at House's ass before moving away. Tritter wrenched him around and quickly dragged him down the hallway, giving House a great view of Tritter's wonderful ass.

Tritter opened a cell door and threw House into a cell with a man who was incoherently singing a song about someone having the man's baby. His legs felt weak as he got up to watch Tritter leave. He hung on the barred door, watching Tritter's ass moving away and felt his cock throb. "Get your ass back here Tritter! I demand my phone call!"

Instead of turning around, Tritter just laughed and let the door slam behind him. And once again, Tritter left him alone and unbearably hard. At the moment, his cellmate decided to loudly belt out the song's chosen verse for repetition.

With a sigh, House sat down on the hard floor and tried to get situated as the crotch of his jeans tightened against his erection. He huffed a sigh and slumped against the wall, breathing deeply to try and ease to uncomfortable feeling. He stared out the barred window and tried to figure out how long until the sun would rise and bring with it Wilson to bail him out. His roommate started up a new verse of the song, and House dropped his head back against the rough wall in exasperation.

When morning light finally began to filter through the barred window, House jumped to his feet and began screaming. He called out all the names of unimportant police officers from TV shows that he could think of in hopes of getting rise out of Tritter. Instead, the man coolly walked into the hallway before the cell, hands in pocket and an easy smile on his lips; "I think you're thinking of Barney Fife." House glowered at him. "Whatever, I want my phone call." Tritter laughed softly, and it sounded breathless to House and made him think of other things. He flushed furiously and rested his head against his arms, leaning on the barred door. "Well Mister House, your friend is actually here."

House finally escaped his prison and into Wilson's arms, but he knew he'd rather be Tritter's captive. "What took you so long?" Wilson gave him a look, "Well, most people don't normally keep $3500 as pocket change." House glowered and then hobbled to Wilson's car, more than ready to be gone from the prison, more than just a little tired being so close to Tritter.

He was so grateful to finally be away from his unknown tormenter that he didn't even complain about having to do clinic.

About a week after being arrested and felt up by Tritter, House returned home after a long day of patients who seemed to excel at pissing him off. He opened the door to his apartment and found most of his possessions scattered about the floor of his living room. "What the hell?!" Outraged was a huge understatement.

House kicked at some of the stuff thrown on the floor as he hobbled jerkily to his sofa. He angrily glanced about his living room and caught sight of a silhouette in the doorway to his bedroom.

Tritter stepped forward with long, leisurely strides. He tried not to notice the muscles that rippled in the other man's thighs. Tritter held up an evidence bag full of at least 20 medicine bottles with a victorious smile on his face. Fuck, he thought as Tritter shook the bag lightly, making all the bottles clack together and making the pills tap lightly against one another. Tritter took a step forward, and House knew he was saying something…but he was just too caught up in the way the man's lips curved around each word.

Sheer smugness nearly coated Tritter, as if Tritter was so sure that he had beaten House at the game. Of course, House wasn't even sure if there really was a game between him and Tritter, or if it was all just in his head. He really hoped that it wasn't a game, and if it was a game, he sure as hell wasn't going to lose.

Angrily, House stalked forward as best he could with the constant thought that Tritter had been in his house, near his bed, and that thought excited him. He pressed far into Tritter's personal space, and as he went to jab the other man in the chest, his bad leg buckled. Tritter caught him as if instinctually, and House felt pressure against his erection.

He didn't have to look down to know that his crotch was pressed against Tritter's thigh, he didn't have to look up to know that Tritter had a smirk on his face, so instead House simply stared at the slow, steady pulse that throbbed in the hollow of Tritter's neck. That pulse point was somehow sexy.

About that time, House became painfully aware that he was grinding against Tritter's leg like a dog in heat, and moaning almost pitifully. Tritter's hand curled around his hip and held him still. House finally tore his eyes from that pulse and stared up at Tritter, felt himself growing lost in that soft, pale blue gaze. Tritter's soft-looking lips curled into a mix between a smirk and a smile, resulting in an intimate, unique bedroom look.

For a moment, House thought, hoped, that Tritter was about to kiss him. Then that deep, soft, low voice rumbled gently from Tritter's chest and caressed House's ears. "I think you're losing Doctor House." But House didn't get a chance to answer as another police officer got Tritter's attention, effectively calling the detective back into House's bedroom. And once again, House was left, watching Tritter walk away, hard and aching. He glowered at the cops that were littered about his house before he grabbed his backpack and stormed from his apartment.

With no notice, he showed up at Wilson's apartment and kicked the door open. Wilson looked up in shock. "House, what the hell?!" House dropped his stuff in Wilson's foyer. "The cops are in my house. That damned Tritter. He won't let it go." Wilson gave him a look. "Have you considered simply apologizing to the man?"

House dropped down on Wilson's spare bed and looked thoughtful. He didn't want to tell Wilson that if he apologized, Tritter would lose interest in the game and that House didn't think he'd be able to deal with that. "Wow. I never thought of that." Wilson gave him a dour look, most likely at the heavy sarcasm that had laced House's voice, but said nothing. Instead, the other doctor returned to his reading.

House knocked lightly on Tritter's door and rocked back on his heels, waiting for the other to answer the door. He didn't really want to apologize, but he knew that the "game" had gone on long enough. He had extended more than a month of his time into thoughts about the other man and it was time to make a more definitive move. A few moments passed, and he was just about ready to knock again when Tritter opened the door. The taller man was dressed casually in loose jeans and a plain white t-shirt. House forgot to breathe for just a moment, before starting in. "Uhm…hey." Tritter raised an eyebrow but smiled lightly. "Hello Doctor House." They stood there awkwardly for a moment before Tritter moved back to let House in. He moved into the living room, feeling more than slightly awkward, but Tritter breezed past him and stood in the centre of the room like a guard. "Well House?" He took a deep breath, looked around, and steeled himself. "Look. I'm sorry, okay? I never meant for it to get this far…but I just can't get you out of my head." Tritter looked at him, and House could see this wasn't exactly what the other man had expected.

But then House was crossing the room, closing the distance. He tilted his head up and looked up at the slightly taller man. "I don't know what we're doing here…but I like it." He tugged Tritter down slightly by his shirt, and the taller man allowed it. He was suddenly staring into those soft blue eyes, getting lost. Tritter seemed mildly unsure, but non-hostile. So House swallowed all his pride and did the unthinkable. He closed the small gap and pressed his lips to Tritter's. It was like drowning or burning alive. The entire world narrowed until it was just them. House couldn't breathe.

Tritter's hand came up and cupped the back of his skull, holding him still as the other man began to dominate the kiss. Finally, Tritter pulled back and smiled down at House. "I think I won." House tried to think of something to say, a witty comeback or something, but his mind was curiously blank. So instead, he tugged the other man closer. "Shut up and kiss me." Tritter laughed softly, but complied. The kisses started out soft and easy, but soon turned into things that were heated and heavy.

They were crashing onto the couch, hands were everywhere. Tritter rose above him, tearing his shirt off and helping House out of his. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, running them over and over against the chiseled, softening planes of Tritter's chest. The other man's lips crashed hard against his, all domineering tongue and teeth. House moaned softly as Tritter's hands fell to his waistline, undoing his jeans. One of those strong hands slipped into his jeans, into his boxers, and was touching him. House's back bowed in an impossible way, held down only by Tritter. The other man never stopped kissing him while his hand slowly stroked House's hard dick.

He was so close, his chest constricting with each breath the closer and closer he got to getting off, but then Tritter just stopped. He pulled back, and House was suddenly so afraid it was going to end. Then Tritter gave him a breathless smile, "Let's move this somewhere more comfortable." He glared at Tritter, but complied, following the other man into his bedroom.

Once inside the bedroom, Tritter's hands were all over him again, leaving little burning rivers on his skin. House's hands found Tritter's pants, and he deftly undid them. Together, they struggled out of jeans and shoes. Somewhere along the way, they lost their socks as they did an awkward dance to the bed.

Tritter pushed him back on the bed before slowly crawling up his body.

Suddenly, the raging passion, the desire to touch, burned away and was replaced by something new. Each touch that Tritter laid on his body made him writhe and gasp, twitch and moan, cling to the taller man. The kisses were slow, languid things that curled his toes.

His fingers dug into Tritter's strong back. House arched under his touches, dug into the kisses. His tongue pushed hard against Tritter's. His body arched hard, pressing tightly against Tritter's, even as his fingers tried to pull the older man closer. He couldn't help but feel as though he was trying to morph their bodies together, and the thought made his heart skip a beat.

Tritter pressed hard against him, their hips grinding against one another. He felt that hot mouth slide away from his, trailing wetly down his throat to nip gently at his collarbone. House gasped, moaning softly in the back of his throat. He heard the bedside table's drawer breathe open softly, and in anticipation he struggled out his boxers. His hands found the waistband of Tritter's boxers, and he slid the fabric down slowly, reveling in the silky feeling of Tritter's skin pressing against his.

He smelt the oily scent of lube and was unable to keep his legs from spreading like a wanton. His head fell back against the pillow with a groan as he felt Tritter's slick fingers touch him. "Christ," he breathed out, and he felt Tritter chuckle against his throat. "Nope, just me." He glared at the attractive older man and began to open his mouth to retort but his words twisted into a moan as he felt Tritter's fingers pressing into him.

His fingers dropped down to the coverlet, twisting in the fabric as he gasped. His back arched near painfully. He was painfully aware of the soft whimpers caught in his throat. He felt Tritter's lips brush along his throat, felt the soft chuckle. "Want me to stop?" He somehow managed to glare at Tritter, which made the other man chuckle just a bit more. The sound of foil tearing stopped any retort he might have thought up.

Those fingers left his body, leaving him feeling open and empty. He dropped his head back against the pillow, trying to quell the anticipation that was curling in his stomach. When he felt Tritter begin to slowly push into him, he breathed and pushed back.

The moment their bodies sealed together, Tritter's hand wrapped around his dick, pulling slow and strong, matching Tritter's thrusts. He couldn't breathe. House grabbed at Tritter, his body taunt as the orgasm that had been choked off earlier curled tightly in his stomach. With every brush against his prostate, the impending orgasm coiled tighter, driving him closer to the edge.

He scrabbled at Tritter's skin, his nails grappling for purchase. The older man leant down just barely and brushed his lips over House's. He pressed up hard into that kiss as Tritter's thrusts became faster, the strokes more erratic. Tritter finally abandoned stroking him, and instead pressed tight against him. His dick was trapped between their sweat-slicked bodies, being rubbed with every thrust.

His nails dug hard into Tritter's hips, his body pressing back to meet each thrust. He was gasping, moaning, could feel his orgasm right on the edge. A particularly hard thrust pushed him over the edge. He tensed under Tritter, pulling the other man closer even as Tritter continued to move. Each bump against his prostate made his dick jump, splattering sticky cum against their stomachs. He felt Tritter tense above him, the slow groan that wormed its way out of that deep chest.

Finally, after a few moments, Tritter pulled out slowly and lay down next to him. He could see the sweat shining on that broad chest. Cautiously, he reached out and touched the older man. Tritter turned his head and gave him a gentle smile. Slowly, Tritter began to move toward him, reaching for him, but then the silver cell phone on the bedside table began to ring spastically. He could see the irritation cross that handsome face as Tritter sat up in bed and grabbed the phone, punching the green button.

"Hello," Tritter growled into the mouth piece of the phone, and House scooted closer, his head pressing lightly into the mattress by Tritter's shoulder. He traced the creases of Tritter's arm muscles, watching as the older man stared off into space while the person on the other end of the phone call talked. Finally, "Alright, I'll be there in about 45 minutes."

Dropping the phone back onto the nightstand, Tritter rolled over on him, pinning him gently to the mattress and brushing a burning kiss across his lips. "I gotta go." He rolled off of House and began to get redressed. Slowly, he sat up and watched Tritter as he pulled on khakis and a button down shirt. "Work?" Tritter glanced over his shoulder at him and smiled, "Yeah, but I'll be in touch with you as soon as I can." He took it for the hint it was, getting off the bed and slowly beginning to redress as well.

Together they walked to the front door, where Tritter pulled him close one last time and kissed him, before pulling back and opening the door. He walked out in front of Tritter and waited on the front stoop, watching as the other man closed and locked the door behind them. They walked to their individual vehicles in silence. Casting one last look toward Tritter, he slid onto the bike and started it up, revving the throttle. He had pulled away before Tritter had even started his car.

Back at his apartment, he dropped down on the couch and heaved a sigh. He couldn't help but think the worst. He wanted to spend more time with Tritter, but he couldn't help but feel it wouldn't come to pass.

And so he continued on through the week, waiting for any contact from Tritter.

When he came into his office one day, there was a message on his answering machine. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he pushed play. "Dr. House, this is Detective Tritter. I'm just calling to tell you that the charges against you have been dropped, thanks to a conversation that went on between your colleague Dr. Wilson and myself. I won't be bothering you anymore." He hit replay. The same message rolled back through. Finally he got up.

He jerked his door open, heard it slam shut as he stalked angrily down the hall toward Wilson's office. He burst through the door, slamming the door behind him. Casually, Wilson looked up at him. "Hey House." He leant against the desk, glaring at his friend. "What. Did. You. Do." Wilson's brow furrowed in confusion, "What do you mean?"

House slammed his hand down on the organized desktop. "Dammit! You know what I'm talking about! What did you tell Tritter?!" Wilson gave him an odd little smile, "I just fixed your mess. In case you didn't know, you were bringing a lot of bad publicity to the hospital, and it was worrying Cuddy and I. So I fixed it." He turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him as he left in a fury. He just barely heard Wilson's "you're welcome," behind him.

Angrily, he stomped back to his office. He locked the door behind him and sat heavily behind his desk. Sighing heavily, he searched through the mess in his desk drawers until he found Tritter's number, picked up the phone, and dialed. The phone rang for a few moments, then it went straight to voicemail. Hanging up, he hit redial, and still no answer.

Finally, he slammed the phone back down into its cradle and rested his head on the desktop. He let out a long sullen sigh, "Fuck."


End file.
